What Is a Real Man? You Are

Dear Stephen, I’m writing this letter to you, my seventh-grade self, from 25 years in the future. Yes, you do survive middle school! I’m sure you have all kinds of questions for me, like “Does my car fly?” “What’s my job?” “Am I famous?” Some questions are more personal: “Am I married yet?” “Do I have kids?” But, Stephen, I know there are other questions burning in your mind that you don’t have the words for yet—some you might be too embarrassed to ask. “Have I finally lost weight? Do I look like a real man? Do I feel like a real man? What IS a real man?”

I wish I could give you a big hug right now, Stephen. We’ll talk about these questions, but I’m not going to answer them. At least . . . not in the way you might want. To start, we need to revisit a very difficult thing that happened to you just a few months ago.

Since you were very young, you’ve always felt a little different than other boys, and some of those differences are quite real. They liked to play outside with trucks. You liked to play inside with puppets. They played soccer during recess. You sang showtunes. They started to hit puberty, lose their baby fat, and grow lean. You hit puberty and grew tall, but the baby fat remained.

These differences never seemed to bother you in elementary school. You never lacked confidence, even when some boys said mean things. You always felt comfortable in your skin. But that changed recently, didn’t it?

Your First Fig Leaf

It happened a few months ago. A trusted loved one looked at you and said, “Boys aren’t supposed to have breasts.” It was one careless sentence, but those six words removed the scales from your eyes. You already knew your body looked a little different from the other boys. But that fact now had new meaning. You weren’t just different—you were wrong. You had “breasts,” and therefore, you were not a proper boy. You were now naked. You were now ashamed, and, just like Adam and Eve, you would now hide.

Your first fig leaf is simple enough. You avoid taking off your shirt around other people, even at the beach and in the pool. You wait to change for P.E. in a private stall while the other boys change in the bathroom. But your body is not the only thing you will learn to hide.

You will hide your body, because a real man doesn’t have “breasts.”

You will hide your creativity, because a real man just consumes.

You will hide your longings for close male friendship, because a real man doesn’t need close friends.

You will hide your longings for a wife and kids, because a real man just wants sex.

You will hide your fear, because a real man isn’t afraid.

You will hide your pain, because a real man doesn’t cry.

There’s something else you will hide—and are already hiding. You will hide your sin. A boy who doesn’t know who he is won’t ever feel safe enough to confess the shameful thoughts and desires in his heart. And when a boy doesn’t know who he is, there are plenty of voices out there ready to tell him.

The Trap You Call Home

A few months ago, you started searching for your own answers, and, Stephen, that search has taken you to some dark places. You went looking online for what a real man is supposed to look like, and the internet showed you pictures of porn stars. You went looking online for what close male friendship is supposed to look like, and the internet gave you stories about men who only want sexual gratification from each other. You went looking online for other boys who might feel the same way you do, and the internet told you that you were “gay.”

You weren’t looking for these answers, but these are the answers you found. Gay pornography and sexual content aren’t what your heart is longing for, Stephen, but this is the poison well you can’t stop visiting. You know this is not what God wants for you. You know this is not what you were made for, but right now, you can’t imagine anything else. You do not trust that Jesus is better for you than these men on the screen. Every time you type those words into the search engine, you are choosing a fantasy “manhood” over the real manhood God has given you. You are choosing to covet and consume the “manhood” of others rather than live obediently as the man God has created and called you to be. You are choosing to lust after pictures of men who exist only to make you feel better about yourself, which is much easier than choosing to love your male peers well—in all of their messiness and difference from you. You fell into a trap last summer, but you’ve made that trap your home.

You are choosing to covet and consume the “manhood” of others rather than live obediently as the man God has created and called you to be.

Stephen, I can’t go back in time to stop you from looking for answers to these deep, tender questions on the internet. But I can tell you where to find the answers you need.

What Is a Real Man?

If you want to know what a real man is supposed to look like, first and foremost, look to Jesus. The quality of your masculinity is not determined by adherence to cultural stereotypes and manmade standards, but by the way you bear the image of your Savior, the perfect man.

If you want to know what a real man is supposed to look like, first and foremost, look to Jesus.

Jesus was born as a man with a male body, but his manhood was not determined by being a perfect physical specimen. In fact, we read in Isaiah 53:2 that “he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him.” Jesus’s masculinity was expressed in his character and actions, his relationships and love. By the work of his Spirit, you will become more like Jesus—whether you’re tall or short, heavy or thin, striking or plain. But you will never become a man. You already are a man, and that is very good.

Stephen, look in the mirror. That is what a real man looks like—or at least, a real boy on his way to being a real man. God created you with a man’s body. Genesis 1:27 tells us, “God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.” God does not make mistakes. He declared his “male and female” humanity to be “very good” (Gen 1:31). There are many ways that our bodies can be bruised and broken by the fall, including the ways we experience our male bodies, but your maleness is good—very good. We’re supposed to take care of our bodies, for the sake of our health and ability to fulfill the callings God has given each of us. But when it comes to what real men look like, there is no “supposed to.” Look in the mirror again. You are a real man. Every piece and part of you, from your head to your toes—even your rounded chest—is male.

Look to Jesus, Stephen

Stephen, I still tear up when I think about you hearing those words, “boys aren’t supposed to have breasts.” I wish I could have protected you from that pain, but the truth is, you will continue hearing words—from the media, the internet, and even the church—that will make you doubt whether you measure up as a man.

You can’t take your eyes off your chest, but I urge you to look instead into the eyes of Jesus, who sees you and loves you more than you can imagine. You won’t take your eyes off these pictures of men who appear to have everything you want, but I urge you to look instead at the wounded hands of Jesus, who gave everything so you could belong to him forever.

You’re afraid to look at Jesus, because you’re ashamed of the images still swirling in your memory from last night’s binge. But he has already paid the price for last night—and all such nights. You are forgiven. What’s more, his Spirit empowers you to turn away from these false, degrading idols of masculinity and turn to Jesus, the perfect man, waiting to receive you with open arms.

Even your manhood is not your truest identity. For God does not simply call you “man.” In Christ, he calls you son.

I said I wouldn’t answer your questions about the future, but here’s what I will tell you: God created you as a real man. If you get married or stay single, you are still a man. If you struggle with sexual temptation with women or with men, you are still a man. If your body looks a little different than other men, you still are a man. If you’re not even sure you feel like a man, you are still a man. But even your manhood is not your truest identity, Stephen. For God does not simply call you “man.” In Christ, he calls you son.